


Nights Like These

by jstabe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 17:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18481384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstabe/pseuds/jstabe
Summary: Contrary to his public image, Steve is a stubborn little shit (Bucky’s words), and it’d bothered him at first that he couldn’t give Bucky everything he needed. He’s ashamed to admit it, now. Ashamed that he hadn’t just been grateful that Clint was able and more than willing to help. That Bucky had been able to ask for that help. But Steve had learned.





	Nights Like These

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to ely_jan for the excellent beta work.

Steve is drying off after his post workout shower when his phone signals an incoming text. It’s short and to the point and so very Clint that Steve smiles before the words really register. 

_Quiet night in._

As Avengers, that should be a good thing, but for them... well, it is and it isn’t. It means Bucky’s had a flashback that’s left him a little lost in his own head. It happens less often than it did when he’d first brought Bucky back to the Tower, less still since they’d started this thing with the three of them. Sometimes it’s not too bad, and Bucky will shake himself out of it. Sometimes, like tonight, he stays a little lost, and it takes Clint to help bring him back. 

Steve heads to the elevator that will allow him access to the private floors, making a stop on his floor to get dressed for the evening. He has clothes at Clint’s, of course, the same way that Clint has stuff here. But on nights like this, Steve needs to be unheard and unseen so it’s easier to dress at his own place. He slips on a comfortable pair of pajama bottoms and a soft T-shirt, finds some socks and shoes because he’d feel weird walking to the elevator barefoot. 

The ride up to Clint’s floor is spent making sure he’s got his phone on silent and that there aren’t any other messages that can’t wait until morning. When the elevator doors open, he looks up from his phone and walks the few steps necessary to take him to the door, lets himself in. He puts the phone on the table just inside the door, smiling when he sees their phones already there. Nothing short of an apocalypse is more important than Bucky on a night like this. 

He gets rid of the socks and shoes and leaves them beside the door before he slips into the bedroom as quietly as he can, and settles into the armchair catty-corner from the bed. Bucky is sprawled out in the center of the bed on his stomach, naked, hair in a messy bun that Steve loves. His head is turned so that he’s not facing the chair Steve has claimed for his own. His shoulders and back are a tight line, and Steve wants to reach out and soothe, but he won’t. He’s gotten so much better at this, at understanding. 

Contrary to his public image, Steve is a stubborn little shit (Bucky’s words), and it’d bothered him at first that he couldn’t give Bucky everything he needed. He’s ashamed to admit it, now. Ashamed that he hadn’t just been grateful that Clint was able and more than willing to help. That Bucky had been able to ask for that help. But Steve had learned. When Bucky got lost like this, when the memories came back too fast, he couldn’t handle seeing Steve. It threw him to see Steve big and loud when he was supposed to be small. Supposed to be Stevie. 

They’d worked their way through it, to the point that Bucky could handle Steve being in the room if he was quiet and unobtrusive. Bucky knew he was there, but he didn’t have to acknowledge it. It settled something in Steve, being allowed to be a part of things even in this small way. 

Clint shifts on the bed, and Steve realizes that he’s been lost in his own head. He meets Clint’s gaze, smiling a little sheepishly. Clint grins back, but then all his focus goes back to Bucky. 

“We doing okay, Buck?” 

There’s a muffled reply into the pillow that Steve can’t pick up, but Clint’s nodding. 

“Good. I’m just going to sit beside you for right now.” 

He settles next to Bucky’s hip, flips open a bottle Steve hadn’t noticed. He pours oil into one cupped palm, recaps the bottle and sets it beside them. He rubs his hands together, smiling down at Bucky. “We’re going to work out these knots before we do anything else. If we do anything else.” 

Clint is big on consent when it comes to Bucky, especially at times like this. Steve sees Bucky nod before Clint’s hands settle on his shoulders. Bucky gives a little wiggle that makes Steve smile. Clint has great hands, strong and callused from years of archery. His movements are slow but sure as he works his way across Bucky’s shoulders and down his back, and Steve can already see the tension easing from Bucky’s body. Steve lets out a quiet, relieved breath. If Bucky is relaxing this easily for Clint, the flashback wasn’t as bad as it could have been. 

Clint glances up, shoots a smile Steve’s way to acknowledge his own relief. Sometimes it takes hours to get Bucky to this point. Clint’s never minded, except for what it indicates about Bucky’s mental state. He hates when Bucky’s hurting as much as Steve does. Clint’s attention goes back to his task, fingers careful as they work out a knot near Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky groans, making Clint laugh quietly. 

“Sounds like I hit a good spot.” 

Bucky gives another little wiggle and Steve can hear the low rumble of his voice, though he can’t make out the words. Clint nods and sits back a little. 

“Give me a sec,” he tells Bucky, voice equally low. 

Clint keeps a hand on the small of Bucky’s back as he lifts up to his knees, manages to get his pajama pants down and off without falling off the bed or letting go of Bucky. Skin to skin contact keeps Bucky grounded when he’s like this, and it’s not like Clint hates it. Still, it’s an impressive feat for a man who is sometimes less than graceful without a bow in his hand. 

Apparently a mind reader now, Clint looks over long enough to stick his tongue out at Steve, who has to stifle a laugh. He lets his gaze rake over Clint’s now naked form before he looks back up into Clint’s eyes. Clint’s blushing, which is such a rare thing that Steve wants to tackle him into the bed. It takes a superhuman effort for him to stay seated and quiet when both of his lovers are gorgeously naked. He shifts a little in the seat, hoping the soft sound doesn’t bother Bucky. 

A glance at the bed tells him that Bucky has practically melted into the sheets, body far more relaxed than it was when Steve got there. He watches as Clint runs his hand down over Bucky’s ass to his thigh, then slowly sweeps it back up. 

“You’re still a little tight through your upper back. Are you good if I get closer?” 

Muffled words from Bucky that must be agreement because Clint shifts to straddle Bucky’s thighs as he reaches for the bottle. He pours out another palmful of oil then leans in to get back to work. His hands are sure and knowing as he sets about his task, and something about that makes heat flare in Steve’s belly. Clint knows Bucky’s body as well as Steve does, even though they’ve been lovers for so short a time compared to Bucky and Steve. Hell, even compared to Clint and Steve. And while he’d expect some jealousy (Steve has _always_ considered Bucky his), there isn’t any. He loves that he’s sharing Bucky with Clint, and vice versa. He’d never known he had it in him to love two people, but he does. Fiercely. 

The weight of a stare brings his gaze from Bucky’s back to Clint’s face. Clint is smiling at him, again like he knows exactly what Steve’s thinking. And maybe he does. That was one of the first things that had drawn Steve to Clint in the beginning, the way Clint just knew him. He smiles back, lets his body go loose and relaxed in the chair. He’s not sure why his mind is wandering the way it is, but he doesn’t want Clint paying attention to him. Bucky needs him right now, and Steve will always put Bucky’s needs above his own. 

Clint’s focus does go back to Bucky, and those incredible hands have drifted down to work on the small of Bucky’s back. Bucky is moaning softly, and Steve’s cock stirs. The purpose of the massage might not be erotic, but there’s no telling Steve’s body that. Not when Bucky and Clint are naked, and Bucky sounds like that. It’s the same soft noise he makes whenever Steve or Clint first push inside of him, and it’s playing hell on Steve’s body. 

Clint’s just as hard as he is, and Steve can’t look away. Clint’s body has always fascinated him. He’s built differently than Bucky, but he’s beautiful to Steve. The line of his back makes Steve itch to pick up a pencil, and that tight ass definitely draws the eye. He’ll smirk about his gun show, wear tight jeans to emphasize toned thighs. But it’s his belly that gets to Steve. He’s not super soldier ripped (Clint’s description, not Steve’s), his stomach a bit softer, but there’s no fat on him. He’s just... real, in a way that Steve’s own body doesn’t feel real to him sometimes. He loves resting a hand on Clint’s belly when they’re cuddled up watching television, and he’s lost track of the number of times that he’s come all over Clint’s stomach and the dark trail of hair that begins just under his belly button. 

Another moan from Bucky drags Steve’s eyes from Clint to him. Bucky was Steve’s first, in everything that ever mattered, well before he got this shiny new body. He’d touched Steve with a care that had pissed him off, and a reverence that spoke of a love that scared Steve. It’d been dangerous then, to be who they were, but they’d not been able to stop. Then came the war. Steve had gotten the serum and HYDRA had gotten Bucky, and everything had gone to hell. Peggy had been a bright light then, but it wasn’t enough to eclipse what he felt for Bucky. But Bucky had pulled away from him, and the whys were something they never really talked about. 

And here they were now, and this Bucky has a shiny new body of his own. The metal arm had fascinated and repulsed Steve in equal measure. It was, generally speaking, a work of art. Deadly and powerful and it changed everything about Bucky. He hated what it meant, what had been done to Bucky without his consent. They’d both learned to deal with it, and now it’s just another part of Bucky. It’s strong, cool to the touch, still fascinating. Bucky’s version of the serum has given Bucky far more muscle mass then he’d ever had before, and Steve would be lying if he didn’t admit to having a thing for Bucky’s thighs. His murder strut, as Clint calls it, is a thing of beauty, and Steve can’t watch him on the field without getting uncomfortably hard. 

Clint’s watching him again, eyes dark with lust. His gaze drops to the line of Steve’s cock, evident under the soft cotton of his pajama pants. There’s a soft murmur from Bucky that makes Clint groan, his fingers stuttering a bit before going back to the smooth movements of his massage. 

“He says... God, Buck. He says you should get a hand on your cock. He knows you’re hard from watching us. He wants to hear you.” 

Steve damn near comes right then. This is... not part of the routine, but then again, on nights like this, it’s always about giving Bucky what he needs. His choices, everything under his control. Plus, it’s fucking hot, Steve can admit that. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t think that’s what Bucky meant, but he does moan softly as he slips a hand into his pants to cup his cock. On the bed, Bucky parts his thighs wider, hips arching into Clint’s touch, and Steve’s fingers tighten around his cock. He’s so damn beautiful that Steve can’t stand it sometimes. 

Clint’s breathing is heavy, hard cock bobbing between his thighs as he lets his hands run over Bucky’s ass. Bucky moans, brings his knees up a little, and widens the spread of his thighs. Steve can see how hard he is, can see a glimpse of his tight hole between slightly parted cheeks and he has to bite back a gasp. He wants inside of Bucky so badly he can hardly stand it. Clint’s either the best person in the world or the worst, because he leans over to speak into Bucky’s ear before kissing his temple and slipping oily fingers between Bucky’s cheeks to rub over his hole. Steve bites his lip, hand working his cock, watches as Clint dips a fingertip briefly into Bucky’s ass before pulling back to rub over his hole once more. 

“We still good, Bucky?” 

Bucky’s yes is low and rough, gravelly, but loud enough that Steve can hear it, and he has to close his eyes for a second. Bucky is usually quiet during these times, keeping his tone deliberately low so that not even Steve’s enhanced hearing can catch what he says. He can hear the soft cadence, but he can’t usually get actual words. Bucky is letting him in tonight in ways he usually can’t and Steve is so proud of him he thinks he could burst. 

Getting himself under control, he opens his eyes to find Clint smiling softly at him. When Clint sees that he’s back with them, he carefully eases a finger into Bucky, making Steve bite back a curse as Bucky moans low in his throat, fingers curling into the sheets. 

For a long time, there are no words, just soft gasps and moans; the sound of Steve’s hand on his cock; the slick noises Clint’s fingers make as he gently works Bucky open. Bucky is moving into Clint’s hand now, his breathing fast and desperate. He lets out a broken moan that tells Steve that Clint is rubbing over his prostate, and Steve has to still the motion of his hand before he comes all over himself. There’s a whisper of sound from Bucky that makes Clint groan. 

“You sure? We don’t have to.” 

Another growl and a little yelp from Clint and Steve has to smile because did Bucky really... 

“Did you fucking _kick_ me, Barnes?” 

Bucky lifts his head from the pillow, and even though Steve can’t see his face from this angle, he knows what expression he’s wearing. Clint’s mumbling under his breath as he pulls his fingers free, wipes them on the back of Bucky’s thigh in retaliation. 

“Fine, fine. Excuse me for thinking consent is important here.” Bucky says something that makes Clint’s face soften as he leans down to press a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. “I know you do, Buck.” 

Steve’s heart swells, because Bucky’s trust is a thing that’s hard earned, and he knows how Clint feels about having it. God, he’s crazy about these two, and he can’t wait until he’s allowed to tell them both so. 

Clint settles behind Bucky, his running along Bucky’s sides. Steve’s breath catches as Clint drops one hand down to stroke his cock before he guides himself to rest against Bucky’s hole. Bucky makes a soft sound, and then Clint is pressing in, and the movement of his body means Steve can’t see anything now except for Clint, but he doesn’t have to. Clint’s got a beautiful dick, thick and perfect, and Steve knows exactly what Bucky’s body looks like when it’s opening for cock. Bucky makes that soft sound from earlier and Steve groans, gets his hand moving again. He watches Clint pause before he finds a slow, gentle rhythm that coaxes the most gorgeous moans from Bucky. Steve’s mesmerized by the flex of Clint’s ass as he fucks into Bucky, by the graceful movement of muscle in his shoulders and back. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin and Steve wants to taste him. 

He moans softly, fingers moving along his cock, but he’s far more focused on the pair in the bed than he is in his own pleasure. The scent and sounds of sex fill the air, and Bucky is far more vocal than he usually is on one of his quiet nights. Metal fingers are twisted in the sheets, and Steve can see the trembling of his thighs as Clint fucks him. Then there’s a shift of Clint’s hips, and a sharp cry from Bucky, a curse from Clint and Steve freezes as Clint’s rhythm falters. 

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry. Was that too much?” 

Bucky loves being fucked, probably because he’s so damn sensitive. Sometimes, though, it can get to be too much for him, especially like this, when his emotions are raw. But Steve can see Bucky frantically shaking his head, reaching back with his metal arm to get his fingers on Clint’s ass and pull him closer. 

“Ohh. You’re close, huh, baby?” The endearment makes Steve smile. Clint’s not one for using pet names, but they tend to fall out when he’s too focused on sex to watch his words. 

Clint gets a hand on Bucky’s cock, and again, Steve can picture it. The way Clint’s fingers look against the darker skin of Bucky’s cock, the shine of precome on the head, wetness that will make it an easy glide as Clint strokes Bucky off. Steve squeezes the head of his own dick, fingers wet and thighs tensing as he pushes into his own fist. There’s a soft cry that might be Clint’s name, and then the smell of Bucky’s orgasm, sharp to Steve’s enhanced senses and now overpowering the other scents of sex in the room. He breathes in deep, hand speeding up on his cock. 

Clint’s breathing is ragged, but his hips are perfect motion as he works Bucky through his orgasm before he stills, buried deep in Bucky’s ass. God, Steve wants to be right where Clint is. He watches the shift of muscle in Clint’s back, hears the hitch as Clint tries to calm down. Another rumble of sound and Clint moans. 

“Fuck yeah. I want to come inside you, baby. You feel so god damn good.” 

He starts to move again, just as slow as before because Bucky will be extra sensitive now, but it’s clearly enough for Clint, who is cursing under his breath with every thrust into Bucky’s body. Long moments later, he stills again, fingers tight on Bucky’s hips, head thrown back as he cries out. The long line of his throat makes Steve want to sink his teeth in, taste the sweat on Clint’s skin. 

For a long time, there’s nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing as Bucky and Clint calm down. Then Clint is carefully pulling out and moving to lie next to Bucky on his side, head propped on one hand as the other rubs affectionately over Bucky’s ribs. A murmur has Clint’s gaze shooting to Steve, dropping to rest on where Steve is clearly still hard. 

He flushes. He hadn’t meant to get so lost in his head, but it’s been happening all night, and Clint and Bucky were so stunning at the end that it had been easy to ignore his own body’s needs and just watch them. He carefully pulls his hand out of his pants. There’s no way he’s finishing now. It just feels wrong. He tips his head toward the bathroom and gets ready to stand up. 

Clint ducks his head, clearly listening, and then he gives a low moan, blue eyes darkening with want. “He says you should get your pants off and come kneel on the bed.” 

Steve’s eyes widen and he looks at Bucky. Bucky still has his face mostly buried in the pillow, clearly still not ready to see Steve. But he wants Steve there and Steve would never deny him. He stands and shucks his pants, climbs onto the end of the bed, careful not to touch Bucky. He kneels with his hands on his thighs, clearly waiting. Clint groans. 

“Jesus Christ you guys.” 

He bends his head to listen to Bucky, eyes locked on Steve. “He thinks you need to some help tonight.” 

Steve moans softly, cock jerking at the thought. He knows Bucky won’t touch him, and can’t figure out where this might go, but he’s eager for it. He gets his answer when Clint shudders and reaches down to slip fingers under Bucky’s thigh, pulling Bucky’s leg up to rest over Clint’s hip. It opens Bucky to Steve’s gaze, hole soft and used and wet with Clint’s come. The sound that comes out of Steve feels like it punches its way out of his chest. Clint’s smile is wicked. 

“He looks good like this, doesn’t he? All fucked out and messy. _My_ mess.” Steve’s moan mingles with Bucky’s this time. “But he’s ours, Steve. And he says you need to mark him up too.” 

Steve reaches for his cock, the fingers of his free hand digging into his thigh to keep from reaching for either of his lovers. He’s achingly hard now, on the edge in a way that just jerking off earlier hadn’t gotten him. He bites his lip, hand a blur on his cock as he races toward the finish. He keeps his eyes on Bucky’s hole, on the wet gleam of come that’s now snaking down one thickly muscled thigh. He wants inside of all that heat, wants to slide in on Clint’s come and fuck Bucky until he adds to the mess Clint made with his own. He wants... 

He comes with a startled cry, streaking come over Bucky’s ass, his thighs. He watches as Clint reaches between Bucky’s legs and swipes at the mess on his thigh, slides the mix of come up to gently push it back inside Bucky’s body. Steve swears under his breath, several more pulses from his cock slicking his hand and Bucky’s leg. He’s shaking as he comes down, hears Clint swear. He jerks his gaze to Clint in time to see Bucky come all over Clint’s stomach. 

“Oh God.” 

Steve winces, hopes his voice doesn’t jerk Bucky out of his head space, but Bucky is still rutting gently against Clint’s belly. That low rumble sounds again and Clint laughs. 

“Yeah, yeah. Now I’m as messy as you are.” 

Steve smiles, relief rushing through him. He uncurls his fingers from his thigh, flexes them a bit to get the blood flowing again. Reluctantly, he pushes from the bed and pads into the bathroom while Bucky and Clint talk quietly to one another. He’d like to bask in the afterglow too, but being covered in come his not his favorite thing. He washes up, then wets two washcloths to take back to bed with him, along with a hand towel. Clint and Bucky haven’t moved, Bucky’s head tucked under Clint’s chin as Clint rubs his back. 

Steve climbs into bed behind Clint and hands over a washcloth, keeps one so that he can carefully clean Clint up. Clint returns the favor for Bucky, switching out the washcloth for the towel after Steve dries Clint off. Steve rolls out of bed again and heads for the hamper in the corner. When he comes back this time, Bucky has rolled onto his right side, Clint snugged up tight to his back. Steve climbs in behind Clint, and grabs the covers to pull up over them. Clint gives a contented sigh; Steve smiles and kisses the nape of his neck. 

“Love you, Clint.” 

Clint’s cheeks color a bit, and he turns his head to kiss Steve. Steve lets himself sink into it, hand on Clint’s hip, the warmth of Clint’s body sinking into his skin. He’d missed this tonight, the connection of skin to skin. He understands why it’s so grounding for Bucky on nights like these. 

There’s a soft little laugh, and then Bucky’s voice, perfectly clear to Steve for the first time tonight. “You guys gonna be at this all night?” 

Clint’s laugh is muted against Steve’s mouth. He kisses Steve one last time, pulls back and rubs his nose against Steve’s. God he’s ridiculous and Steve is crazy about him. 

“Gotta give my best guy a good night kiss, don’t I, Buck?” 

“Other best guy,” Bucky grumbles. There’s clear teasing in his tone, and Clint laughs again as he leans down to kiss Bucky’s cheek. 

They settle down, and Steve keeps a hand on Clint’s hip, careful not to touch Bucky. He doesn’t want to undo any of the progress they’ve made tonight. He’s drifting off, when he feels cool metal glide over the back of his hand. He rests his forehead on Clint’s shoulder, heart aching in his chest. Bucky tugs and Steve lets him position Steve’s arm so it’s lying over Clint, Steve’s hand on Bucky’s belly. Bucky makes a pleased little sound and laces his fingers with Steve’s. 

“Night, Bucky,” Steve says, very softly. “I love you.” 

“Mm. Love you too, Stevie. Now go to sleep.” 

And Steve, who’s never followed an order in his life without arguing, does exactly that.


End file.
